


One Hundred Moments between Clint and Phil

by murielofdelphi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, M/M, Not Beta Read, not romantic centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murielofdelphi/pseuds/murielofdelphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 theme challenge fic featuring Clint and Phil. Each Chapter is titled after the Theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not Own any of this.
> 
> I wrote the Disclaimer 'cause its habit.
> 
> The chapters range in word length, some will be long, most will be short. May edit them later, if I do, It will be stated and with the date.

Agent Thompson warned him that this was his last chance, that if Agent Coulson couldn't break him in, he'd be out of SHIELD for good or worse regulated to desk work. He'd waited outside Director Fury's office for thirty minutes, his last handlers words ringing around in his head, his fingers biting into his palms as he got madder and madder.

It's possible he didn't make a good first impression with his new handler as his new handler had made on him. The second the suit had walked out of the Director's office he had growled without turning his head to look down at the new face he would be seeing for the next month of probation, "So, you ready to try and break me in?"

"Breaking will not be necessary. But I will warn you, I watch Super Nanny religiously, I will drop you if you push to hard." a low voice answered.

Clint had turned completely in surprise and tilted his head down the slightest bit, the suit--no the man--was only slightly shorter then himself. Calm brown eyes watched his assessment before walking off, Clint, speechless followed.

"Come along, Furys' given us a mission, he expects it done within forty eight hours, you got twenty to suit up, grab your gear and head down to the loading bay. Wheels up in Thirty." The Agent explained never turning around to see if Clint was listening let alone following him.

 _Arrogant._ Clint thought, _But he knows he deserves the respect._

 _  
_"But wait," Clint called, jogging to catch up with the man's long strides.

Agent Coulson stopped and turned to wait on him. One point to him, Thompson would have kept walking and told him to shut up.

"Yes?"

One more point, Clint realised dumbstruck, He acknowledged me.

"I'm on probation, I can't have a mission for another two months." he stated.

"Can't?" Said Coulson. "Or not allowed?"

"Not allowed."

"I cleared you, let's go," Coulson nodded his head, but he didn't move, he waited for the information to click in Clint's mind.

"Cleared? How I failed my evalve's," Said Clint.

"No you didn't, not really, Agent Thompson failed you. You just barely passed everything, by SHIELD standards, and you only passed because Agent Thompson wasn't the only one grading you." Coulson explained. "You got fifteen minutes now to make it to the bay and be ready, I'll explain on the way to the drop sight."

Clint ran.

 

 


	2. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continues from where I left off...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah, didn't know how to say this the right way. my 100 theme challenge that I've given myself I'm trying to make it into a story like timeline thing... yeah...  
> :)

"Agent Coulson," Clint greeted as he clambered up into the helicopter, his bow and arrows slung behind his back.

"Agent Barton," Coulson nodded in return, holding out a file for Clint to take. "Here's the Mission File, our objective is to watch a intel drop off, we're their back up."

"Woah, really?" he asked. He was a lowly class four, he was a special grunt of SHIELD OPs, and watching another team and providing back up was definetly class five.

"Oh, yes, I forgot to congratulate you on your promotion." Agent Coulson smiled. "Welcome to Class Six, your a field agent now, your primary missions will be high rate take outs mostly, a couple intel relays, and primarily the back up for the actual intel gatherers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 98 more to go :)


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil shocked Clint into Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you guys enjoy it so far, so here is some more of Clint and Phil's early relationship (or at least how I think it could have happened).

The mission was simple, it was just as Coulson said, Barton would watch the drop off and everything should be fine. The second he had gotten onto the roof that Intel had chosen he cursed.

"What's wrong?" Agent Coulson's calm voice asked through his ear piece.

"This spot is totally wrong! I'd get a better three sixty on the roof acrossed from this one." Clint whined, but he began to set up, because it was rare that a Handler ever listened to him when he said the Higher Ups had picked the wrong spot, he'd have to deal with a building blocking his right sight. It made his skin crawl to have a bliind side.

"Move then."

Silence. Clint froze, one knee down the other stretching out behind him, still prepared to get into the prone supported.

"What?" Clint gasped, but his hands were already flying over the sniper rifle the ops had chosen for the mission, dismantling it in record time and putting it back into the bag and jogging off the roof as fast as possible, he'd get to the other one in time he thought without a doubt.

"If you think you'd get a better shot if things go bad from a different vantage point then move. You've got about twenty minutes to bypass that buildings security and set down. I trust you won't have any problems?" Phil said.

"None." Barton grinned at the sky.


	4. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something goes wrong.   
> .  
> Phil took in the wound on Clint's shoulder and called in the bird.

Clint had gotten to the roof no problem, he'd set down and was prepared to wait, and that's when the shit seemed to hit the fan, and it became one giant clusterfuck of confusion and adrenaline.

He heard the sound of gun fire first, the confusion stamped out, replaced by the need to fight. "Coulson, do you hear that?"

Coulson didn't respond right away, and when he did he sounded slightly out of breathe, "It seems we got a possible mole, bag your target."

The Intel drop off was a fail he guessed, or been busted, because the guy he was supposed to guard with his scope came sprinting around a corner. Coulson said to bag him. "Black bag him, or tie him up bag him?"

"Capture him. We'll kill him later if he answers wrong." Clint didn't respond he took the shot, the guys knee would never be the same again. He thought about taking the other knee out, but Clint liked a chase, so he didn't he just bolted for the scaffolding.

When he got down to the street though, the guy was dead, he'd been double tapped int he head and chest. Clint ignored the screaming crowd and looked for the possible shooter. He felt the cold press of the barrel in his shoulder blade, felt the flare of pain but ignored it as he swung around and fired his own weapon low twice, taking out both the shooters feet. His arm lashed out, his hand grasping the gunman's wrist and with a quick sharp twist broke it, the magnum falling from loose fingers. He caught the other fist flying for his face, and holding both hands wide apart slammed his forehead into the other guys. 

Coulson came around the corner at a quick stride a second later as the guy slumped forward. He took in the wound on Clint's shoulder and called in the bird.

"The Mission parameters have changed, and I believe under the circumstances, that Fury will be lenient."


	5. Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint didn't see Agent Coulson as a Cat person.

Medical had checked his shoulders out, and said he was grounded for the week, but could take light duty ops when he passed his physical. When he asked if he could have the report to give to his handler, the medics seemed shocked, Clint Barton never made his handlers jobs any easier. Thompson hadn't cared.

It didn't take him long to find Agent Coulson's office, he paused in front of the door instead of barging in, he didn't want to make another bad first impression. 

He knocked.

"Enter." Coulson's voice told him. He turned the knob and peeked his head in, making sure he wasn't interupting anything, but there was nobody else. Agent Coulson seemed to just be writing up the Mission Report. "Oh, Agent Barton, it's a good thing your here. Have you written upi your after action report yet?"

When he shook his head negative, Coulson pulled a paper out of another folder and placed it on the other side of his desk. Barton took it as an invitation to come in.

The paper was a standard AAR report, asking him to give all the details, and rewriting over and over what had occurred. In four days Intel would ask him to write it again to see if he remembered anything different.

He took a pen from a cup holder and began writing. At some point he had looked up and actually take in the rest of the desk when he was trying to decide on the wording to explain that Phil had let him change position at the beginning of the op, and his eyes landed on a picture of a long haired black cat. It's green eyes staring at him intensely from a framed photo.

He didn't think Coulson was actually a cat person, and thinking about it, it was slightly off putting. It was probably gag gift.


	6. No Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint recovers.

It seemed like no time had passed that week between letting his shoulder heal and getting to know his handler better, and then there were days like yesterday that seemed to fly by passing his physical and being allowed to do light ops, and then there were days ike today dragging along with agonizing slowness.

  
He should have known that light field ops would be code for kid gloves. He was watching over the probies class, it was fun to shadow and tale them and see how fast they found him at first, and it was a training excersize for them; however, they still had to do boring classwork.

  
He'd rather shadow Phil to see how long it took him to spot him. He didn't think he'd be able to do it. It would proove to be a challenge, and Phil could help him improove, he'd have to run it by him later.

  
For now though, he made paper airplanes and tossed them at the newbies. Hopefully, with an irate note from the instructer, SHIELD wouldn't stick him with this. Next time he would make sure he didn't pass his exam so fast, then he'd get a couple more days to relax and analyse his Agent, Barton snorted he was already hooked on the guy.

  
Some people believe in love at first sight, but Clint, he believed in knowing someone was going to be awesome at first sight.


	7. Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Phil talk a bit.

"Give Up, Barton." Phil said to the empty hallway.

Clint cursed, and opened the air vent about two feet behind Phil, who'd he'd been stalking all day. He decided to forego his original plan to ask Phil to play hide and seek with him and instead decided to just do it. Better to catch him unaware then with his guard already up. Seemed he had underestimated his Handler.

"What are you doing?" Phil asked patiently.

"Wacthing you," Barton shrugged.

"Any particular reason why you've been doing it for the last hour in the half, via air ducts?" Phil asked.

"Damn! I thought I had you at least for a bit!" Barton said.

"Nope, your going to have to try a lot harder," Phil said. "Plus your not fully healed so I don't think the air ducts are the best way to pull survailence on me."

"My shoulder is fine, Medical okay'ed it."

"Really? You sure?" Phil asked, jabbing it lightly, he rolled it with the pressure choosing not to go against it. "Your shoulder is what gave you away. You had to relieve the pressure and strain you were exerting on it by holding your wieght up, and the constant flexing of it in a low crawl."

Clint nodded, he had rested alot, he'd been sure he had been far enough away from Phil and enough other noise in the halls for him to not notice the random metallic pops from the ceiling. "You can try again in two weeks, until then, you should try those rehab drills those Medics gave you."

"I don't need rehab," Barton frowned.

"Don't think about it as rehab, think about it as strengthening drills set low to fool your muscles into thinking their working harder." Phil said.

Clint thought about it, that was actually pretty brilliant, so he nodded.


	8. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a memory problem, he can't remember things after loki's attack. He panics slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so someone pointed out, that they wouldn't mind if the prompts didn't follow storyline, so this one is slightly off course.

They tell him to calm down, that its nothing to worry about, but its written all over their faces again. They don't trust him. 

He'd been doing a regular pysche evalution that was made mandatory in his file since Loki's attack, when the psyche had asked him a simple question. "Do you remember the day you met Phil Coulson?"

He opened his mouth to reply, figuring he could throw out a random date, but all that came out was, "Who?"

The pysche cleared his throat and spoke slightly louder, enuciating the name clearly, "Agent Coulson, your previous handler."

Barton searched his mind, the name didn't ring a bell, he felt dread fill his stomach. This was important, he knew it was, even though he remembers quite clerly that he hated his past handlers something in him is familiar with that name. 

"Agent Barton?" the pysche asks, clearing his throat.

He takes a couple deep breathes, his eyes dart around the room, searching for clues he won't find. "I can't remember."

"That's okay, do you---"but before he can ask a different question not noticing Barton's agitation, Clint's already out of his chair, pacing around it, then doubling back and repeating. His eyes glare at the grey carpeted floors of the pysche's office, not all carpets are the same, each office is different.

"Each office is different," he whispers, dropping to his knees, running his hand lightly over the fibers. What was the color of Agent Coulson's office? He can't even begin to guess where its located in the building, if its even in this HQ or if its at another one, let alone try to recall the layout. 

"Agent Barton?" the pysche asks, but he has already hit a button or called something in, because he can hear the fast jog of more people aproaching. He glares but turns back to the floor. The carpets always entertined him, they were something to look at during briefs, a splash of personality in a goverment desighned building.

Natasha is the first through the door, followed by Fury, the other agents behind them look nervous, and a couple have already drawn their guns. He looks up at her desperately. "Whose Phil Coulson?" he asks.

She stares at him in shock. Even Fury is showing emotion, though not with his face, he waves the other agents away.


	9. Dream

"Clint?" Natasha called from the doorway of the darkened room.

A form shifted under the covers  piled in the corner of the room.

"Come on, Clint, you gotta get up." Natasha pleaded.

"No..." Clint answered, pressed up against the cold wall of his bedroom, there were dark circles under his eyes. "What I need, is to go back to sleep, but I can't do that because you took the pills. So..." Clint shifted around slightly to glare at her. "GIVE ME MY PILLS BACK SO I CAN SLEEP!" he roared. The action left him even more exhausted then he had been causing him to slump back against the wall, starring at something only he could see.

"You were killing yourself Clint." Natasha whispered, hugging her arms close to herself. "Tell me why you want to sleep so badly," she tried to reason with him.

Clint didn't respond at first, but then his arm twitched, "I can still hear him," He grabbed the side of his head. "He whispers things, I don't even know what he's saying, but he talks to me..." Clint looked up at her with tears in his eyes. His hand gripped his hair like a lifeline. "He's here...When I sleep, he's still here...I need to go to sleep, that's the only way...the only way I'll know what he's whispering."

"Okay, Clint," Natasha whispered.

"I can have my pills back?" He begged, looking over at her in desperation.

"No, I'm going to go mix you a Widow Shot. You can't abuse those." Natasha told him, he nodded and slumped back against the wall again and waited for her to return.


	10. Enemies

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov used to be friend-enemies before SHIELD saved Clint. They'd met in the field multiple times, sometimes she would win sometimes he would win, but it was the thrill of the hunt--the actual challenge they presented each other that stayed their death shots.

SHIELD had given a file to Phil Coulson, an OP for Clint to take out the Black Widow. "Not much is known about her--"

"Sir?" Clint interrupted him.

Phil looked up from the folder he was flipping through in shock.

"Her name is Natasha Romanov. I think I can get her to join our side. Like how SHIELD got me."

"I understand Clint, and I trust you, but its gonna be both our asses in Director Fury's office if the OP goes south. Are you sure?"

"Yes."


	11. Director Coulson

Being the new Director of SHIELD wasn't as fun as he thought it would be. In between rebuilding, missions, out maneuvering HYDRA, all he can think about are the Avengers. Specifically Clint. Did Fury tell him he was alive? He hadn't told Audrey, and she had been one of his best friends, she had known how he felt about Clint.

Was he even allowed to use his new power as the Director of SHIELD to inform Clint. To command him to come back to his side? 

He couldn't. The Avengers needed Clint more then Phil needed him, and the Avengers didn't need Phil Coulson, just like they didn't need Director Fury most of the time.


	12. Cats

Phil watched Clint give the picture frame on his desk a funny look. As he typed out his mission statement, he glanced over to see which one had put such a look on his face, he chuckled.

Audrey had given him a blank picture frame for his birthday and told him to put it on his desk to remember good times. He wasn't one to really take a lot of pictures that didn't have anything to deal with missions, so he had let the blank frame sit on his desk. Fury told Maria about it, and they had a good laugh about it; however the next day, Maria had printed out a copy of a black cat and put it in the frame. 

Audrey was right. There was a fond memory tied to the frame. Now he could add Clint's paranoid look to those fond memories.

 


	13. Pokemon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never had a Tamagotchi so I just read the Wiki summary--I was suprised it came out after Pokemon though since it seemed like it was simpler.

Phil walked into his office only to find Steve Rogers getting the death glare from Clint Barton.

"What's the problem, Captain? Clint?" He asked.

Clint whipped around to face him and point an angry finger at the Captain accusingly. "He just called Pokemon stupid!"

"It is. They're not even real! Even Tony says their childish." Steve defended himself.

"Mr. Rogers are you actually agreeing with Tony Stark?" Phil asked. Clint's eyes widened and he turned back towards Steve, waiting for his answer. It was well known that Steve Rogers almost religiously chose the side that Tony was not on. "I'm pretty sure Dr. Banner would disagree with Tony also. Why don't you ask Miss Potts to get you a Tamagotchi first, before you try to play Pokemon and decide for yourself?"

Clint nodded, throwing himself back into his favorite seat with extra padding.

"What's the point of these games anyway?" Steve asked.

"Although Pokemon came out before the Tamagotchi, the Tamagotchi was for simpler minds. With Pokemon you got a virtual companion who you had to train and level up though a battle system that is so complex its simple. Your goal was to be the greatest, you didn't battle other LIVE players unless you had a cord to connect the systems-" Phil paused seeing the Captains confused face. He sighed, "The only goal was to collect all the badges and fight the final boss in a tournament. It had a Cartoon TV Show which is half the reason its so popular still, the Tamagotchi--which is what I think you should start with first, if you do decide to play, so you can understand why kids like to play the games--was just a virtual pet that you would press buttons to feed, water, bathe, exercise; all the things you would do for a real pet. If you ignored the game for to long the pet would die. There are different versions where this does not happen though." The Captain nodded.

 


	14. Macaroni

"Hey Clint why aren't you eating the Macaroni, I thought you loved it?" Steve asked. He had made dinner at Stark Mansion and demanded--I mean--Asked super nicely for a team dinner. He had made a wide variety of food and had made sure he had a least one dish that each of the members loved. He was shocked to realize both him and Tony liked fish sticks but luckily they had different opinions on what the best fish stick tasted like.

Clint looked up in embarrassment and stuttered. He had everything on his plate, except for the macaroni that Steve had on good sources (ie, Natasha) that he loved.

Phil patted Clint's hand. 

"You made the wrong kind. Clint only eats Kraft Macaroni and he'll only eat it for up to ten minutes after its been cooked."

Steve looked at Clint in shock, "Really?" 

Tony kicked him under the table. "I refuse to eat Cottage Cheese but I love Lasagna--even if it has extra cottage cheese in it."

Natasha laughed. "Welcome to the twenty first century again Captain; with the abundance of food after the war and the great depressions, and the different ways kids are taught growing up and the things the media influences them on," She shrugged. "Almost everyone you meet has one bad food habit."


	15. Noodles

Phil was looking through the pantry and thinking about what he could make for dinner when Clint out of nowhere demanded they had chili-spaghetti. He gave him a look over his shoulder, "Are you going to cook it?"

Clint huffed and crossed his arms. "Phil, you know I can't cook noodles, unless its Ramen."

"And you know, that one of these days, your going to have to learn. But tonight I suppose I can make chili-spaghetti."


	16. Warehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little snippet, so sorry that I've been gone so long.

**"Clint, where are you?"**  Phil's voice asked in his ear.  Clint wondered what it would feel like to have his lips whispering words into his ear with no space in between them. Sweaty bodies pressed together, their hearts pounding because they had never--! **"Clint, do you read me, over?"**

"I hear ya, I'm....in a warehouse?" He answered, looking around in mild confusion. He'd jump through a random skylight after running and jumping between all the buildings after he'd taken the shot. His shoulder twinged in agony and he gritted his teeth, and looked at his new wound.

 **"I'm on my way."** Phil said. 

When Phil arrived, Clint had managed to stagger into an office and grabbed a first aid kit that he'd been lucky was there.  He was still tightening the wrappings when Phil walked in. He looked up when he waved a hand by Clint's, a silent signal to let him take over. His fingers ran over and around the wound before continuing the job. 

_Fingers trailing sleepily over his biceps..._

_A questing hand finding what it was looking for with a sure grip and a teasingly slow pull..._

**_Clint groaned._** "I think you've lost enough blood tonight, lets get you back to the Helcarrier so the real Medics can patch you up."


	17. Fireworks

Clint has a love hate relationship with fireworks that Phil found beautifully sad.

Blame it on some form of PTSD, Phil couldn't blame him for hearing gun fire and mortar shells. The kind that get your heart pounding in fear, the sudden need to seek cover, and knowing....telling yourself your safe, its fireworks, not an enemy. 

They both watch with careful eyes as the world celebrates the fourth of July. They enjoy the show, but they can't help but keep their ears pricked for enemies.


	18. Alarms

Clint really hates his morning alarm which is why he enjoys weekends so much. Sometimes when he wakes to it he contemplates just sleeping in, but then Phil would barge in with a cup of cold water to dump on his face. 

This is one of those mornings. His body is sore, his mind just feels tired and stressed and he just feels like he can't....he just can't today, not right now, not this morning...maybe later in the afternoon.

He sends a text to Phil asking for the day off.

He almost cries when he gets one back telling him sure.


	19. Texting

Phil hates his alarm clock.

What he hates even more then his morning alarm clock, is when he is woken by his text notification right after his alarm goes off....on the weekend. He grumbles as he grabs his phone, wondering what is so important that they have to interrupt his day off.

He is confused when he see's a message from Clint asking for the day off. 

He tells him sure, and lays back down with a sigh. He'd check up with him later to make sure he's feeling alright. 


	20. Movies

They were on vacation when Clint asked Phil if he wanted to go see a movie. Phil agreed but insisted that they just watch one at Phil's home, and this was why.

Clint snored softly away where he was slumped into the couch, a bag of popcorn sitting precariously on his lap ready to tip and spill at any moment.  Phil had learned that even though Clint loved watching TV...sometimes he just fell asleep. 

It wasn't worth wasting twenty dollars at a movie theater for (it was).


	21. Muse

Sometimes...Clint hated blinking cursors. Why? Because when a Muse bites him in the ass and he just wants to write this truly amazing idea out but...he can't. The Muse bit him but he was never poisoned. 

"I thought you finished typing up the mission report?" Phil asked, glancing up from his work desk. Clint had barged into his work space, sat on his couch with his laptop and had been clicking away for twenty minutes when he suddenly stopped and sat starring at his screen. "You only need to tell them the bare basics, you don't need to give them all the details."

Clint looked up at him in amazement, his eyes flicking back and forth between him and the laptop screen. 

Phil smiled when he heard the sound of keys being tapped to hard started up again.


	22. Fanfiction

_I have spent my life searching for the answers that my father, and my father's fathers, failed to find. Who were the Precursors? Why did they create the vast monoliths that litter our planet? How did they harness eco, the life energy of the world? What was their purpose, and why did they vanish? I have asked the plants, but they do not remember. The plants have asked the rocks, but the rocks do not recall—even the rocks do not recall._

_Every bone in my body tells me that the answers rest on the shoulders of a young boy. Oblivious to his destiny, uninterested in the search for truth, and rejecting of my guidance! And why would he want to listen to old Samos the Sage, anyway? I'm only the master of green eco, one of the wisest men on the planet! (sighs)_

_So it seems the answer begins not with careful research, or sensible thinking; nay! As with many of fate's mysteries, it begins with but a small act of disobedience._

Clint read this simple narration with the sound of Samos the green sages sarcastic old wise man voice echoing in his head.

_Daxter an elf with buckteeth looked around scared, "Hey! Uh, Jak? Old green stuff told us not to come here." He stumbled after his blonde haired elf friend. "What are we doin' here anyway, Jak? This place gives me the creeps!" Jak glanced back at him but didn't answer, the elf was mute. Daxter tripped over something, "Huh? Oh, stupid Precursor junk!"_

"What are you reading?" Phil asked.

Clint jerked upright and slammed his laptop screen shut. "Nothing."

 


End file.
